


A taste of heavenly rush

by endalaus



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 08:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endalaus/pseuds/endalaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five Lannisters Sansa killed (and the one she never could)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A taste of heavenly rush

**Author's Note:**

> written for the kinkmeme at lj.
> 
> prompt: Sansa kills the Lannisters, save one. "She thinks it's funny, how the blood and the hair make the colors of the Lannister sigil."
> 
> spoilers for all the books

I

**  
**

'Is this where whores go?' Sansa wonders when she watches the movements of the two figures before her with great curiosity. Depending on the noises the girl makes, she has to admit her Lord Husband is better at this than she would have thought. Would she be making the same noises now, if she had chosen to bow down to him and let him get his way? She doubted it. She still remembers how afraid she was that night, how it hurt when the people called her Lady Lannister. This would have hurt her too, if she was still able to feel pain.

Something twists in her gut and Sansa takes a deep breath, opens the door a bit further and slips into the room. _Her_ room. _Her_ husband. _Her_ bed. _Her_ pillows his head is resting on. Sansa Stark claimed those things. It wasn't much, and not what she had wanted, but it was all she had. They weren't meant to be shared with a handmaiden, _her_ handmaiden. He had shamed her enough. She remembers their wedding and how he waddled next to her and continues to watch the scene on the bed. The girl is on top of him now, her small back glowing in the light of a hundred pine tree scented candles, placed carefully around the bed. _Her_ candles. They had no right.

Sansa holds the crossbow in front of her and points at her target. She counts to three and clenches her finger. The crossbow whangs just as the girl starts to moan the name of her husband. The bolt slams into her back and she falls down with a grunt. Blood seeps out around the deep wound, dripping down her naked dead body. Then the body moves and her husband wriggles himself free from the weight on top of him.

“You shot her,” he said incredulously, his eyes glassy with shock when he sees who is standing before him. He sits up, letting the blanket slide down to his lap. Beneath it he is naked, but for the chain about his throat, a chain of linked golden hands, each holding the next. “You always were quick to grasp a situation, my lord,” Sansa says. “That must be why you’re the Hand of the King. You are always so clever with your plots and schemes.” She sits down on the bed next to him and slides a hand under the chain that used to belong to her father, and twists. The links tighten, digging into his neck. “For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman’s hands are warm, isn't it, my Lord?" He tries to fight his way out of her grip. 'What would you know of that?' he asks, his voice irritated as he realizes he's not going to win this fight by physical strength. 'More than you know,' she says with an absent smile on her lips and she places a kiss on his cheek. She gives the metal in her hand a second twist and tugs a strand of his hair behind his ear as a gurgling noise escapes his lips. 'Don't worry my Lord, you will be happy where you are going.' He eyes her suspiciously. 'Where I am going?' he grasps, struggling for air. 'Yes my Lord', Sansa whispers in his ear as she gives the chain another final twist. 'Where ever whores go.'

His face turns red and his eyes bulge in their sockets before his head falls down in her lap. Sansa softly strokes his hair, surprised to find out the red matches wonderfully with his golden hair. 'For Winterfell' she mutters to the dead body in her arms. 'For Winterfell and the childhood you stole.'

 

 

II

 

'And who are you?' Sansa asks playfully when she sees a smile on the man's lips when he looks at her. It the night of their wedding, her third one and his second, and the autumn rains slam against the windows as to tell her even the clouds are weeping for her. 'They prefer to call me King,' he answers, emphasizing every syllable to make sure she understands the importance of his words. He takes the red Lannister cloak off her shoulders with brisk and affectionless movements. Sansa raises an eyebrow. 'But you're not my King, you're my husband now.'

She takes another sip of the drink in her hands and takes a moment to feel it burn in her throat, before she pulls him close and cups him through his breeches. 'Gods,' he murmurs against her ear, 'And you're not a child. I will make sure you get bedded properly this time girl, third time's a charm.' Sansa licks her lips. 'I believe it is' she whispers, almost surprised at the willingness he shows when she ties his hands to the bed and straddles his hips. 'I believe your son and grandson couldn't handle me my Lord'. He studies her face in amusement. 'What makes you think you can handle me?' he asks her surprised. Sansa only smiles at him and starts unbuttoning his shirt, quietly humming to herself. When she's done she kisses the skin underneath it, leaving a red mark where she bites his neck. Thinking of how her auburn hair clashed with the crimson of the Lannister cloak he made her wear three times, she looks up at him and traces the outline of his face with her finger. Her nails, painted red for the special occasion, leave a thin red line of blood behind. Sansa watches the trace with great interest, suddenly realizing red is the only color the Lannisters will ever be remembered by. The blood on everyone's hands: Lannister red. Every single person dying in battle until the last day of mankind: Lannister red. Sansa laughs and her tongue follows the trail, appreciating the taste of it in her mouth, her hands fumbling with the brim of her dress. It isn't until her hands find what they're looking for that she answers his question: 'because my nails are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours.' She meets his eyes. If he is afraid he's giving her no hint of it, but for a moment she believes she can see a glimpse of admiration in his expression.

She stabs the silver knife into his chest and twists it. 'Robb Stark sends you his regards,' she says, her voice flat and without emotion. Tywin Lannister roars while the blood gushes out of his mouth. When she's sure he's dead she takes the knife out and puts the blade against his throat, gripping it tightly as she starts to slice through the flesh. 'For Robb and taking my last hope for rescue.' She starts humming the tune of the song again, but there was not a soul to hear.

 

 

III

 

'Is this what you do for love?' Sansa snaps when her golden knight finally shows up at the Vale. She had been waiting in the sky cells for days, growing cold and hungry, feeling incredibly stupid the success of her entire plan depended on the punctuality of a knight showing up to save her. 'What took you so long?' she asks, wondering if she would ever learn. He only shrugs and holds up his left arm, all red and bloody, holding Petyr's head in his hand. 'Isn't this what you wished for,' he replies with a grin. Sansa sighs from relief. 'You did it,' she exclaims, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing every piece of skin she comes across. 'I am so happy you're here now, I'm going to be a queen now.' She looks up at him with bright innocent eyes and he smiles down at her and bends his knee. 'I'm here to serve you, I will keep you safe.' 'Thank you,' she whispers emotionally, 'I couldn't have done it without you. You showed me true knights exist after all.'

He places what's left of Petyr on the ground, takes her face into his hands and kisses her brow. Sansa's heart jumps in her chest, being fully aware of his hand, all golden, pressing cold into the skin of one cheek, his bloody hand, all red, leaving sticky prints to the other. When he notices the blood on her cheek he tries to wipe it off, telling her she shouldn't be around the blood of dying men, that he would never spoil her innocence. She takes his hand and uses his fingers to draw battle stripes on her face. 'Lannister colors,' she smiles at him, 'I'm not afraid of blood anymore Jaime, I can handle you.'

She kisses him, her legs around his waist and he rips her dress, pushing her to the ground. She growls into his neck when he thrusts into her. They roll over, changing positions and Sansa realizes how much she missed this. She leans into him, her tongue finding his and Jaime pulls her arms around her and rolls her over again. It doesn't take long until they are both covered in blood, Sansa on her back, the wind gushing around them louder and louder. Sansa moans, her fingers gripping his hair and pulling him closer and closer until he feels every muscle in her body contracting when she bites his neck to keep herself from screaming out his name. The impact takes the breath out of him and he tries to steady himself, shifting his weight from her to the hand he is about to place next to her, but he's too much in a hurry. The moment he realizes there is no ground on the other side of her, his hand is already scraping uselessly across the smooth stone of the outer wall and in panic his leg slips as well. His fingers leave deep gouges in Sansa's forearm and she yanks him away from the edge in one fluent movement. He trembles, then grins, letting go off her arm sheepishly.

High on adrenaline he stands up, pushes Sansa against the wall and thrusts into her again. He's harder than she ever felt him before. Sansa looks over his shoulder and is shocked to find out they're not alone. 'He's watching us, Petyr's spying on us,' she says, pointing at his head, but Jaime doesn't let it bother him. A couple more thrusts and he releases inside of her. 'I love you' he pants and he presses his forehead against hers as she steadies herself on her own feet again. Sansa cups his cheek in her hand and kisses him on the lips, a kiss he answers with a tenderness she didn't expect. 'You're a fool' she tells him. 'A beautiful golden fool.' She gives him a shove.

Screaming, Jaime Lannister falls backwards out of the sky cell into empty air. There was nothing to grab on. 'This one is for Bran,' she yells after him, 'For Bran and all the knights that will never be." Somewhere far off in the distance, a wolf starts to howl. Sansa slides down against the wall next to Petyr and pats his head. 'You would be proud' she tells him. She throws her head in her neck and starts laughing.

 

 

IV

 

They are only children, Sansa ponders when she pushes herself out of the water onto the riverbank. But she knew it wouldn't stop her from what she was doing. Being a child was never an excuse. She sits down on the grass, her dress heavy around her body, soaked from the water. Still out of breath from swimming against the current, she watches the two bodies in the river, struggling to keep their golden heads above the surface of the water. Sansa wonders how it is possible they never learned to swim. The blue of the water seems to swallow them whole and she notices it is the same blue color as her eyes, as her mother, as the fish of the Tully.

Ser Pounce disappears beneath the surface first, with a last screeching meow and its claw trying to grip the air as if it would hold him. The little boy follows not much later, without any protest, as if he was waiting for someone to rescue him. If he had any thoughts they would be about his kittens, Sansa was sure of that. She had never liked his kittens. They had stared at her with the same green insidious eyes as lions did. The fact he cared about those sneaky creatures more than anything else proved to her he was as Lannister as the rest of them. Truly his father's son too, she ponders, thinking about how easy they died, without a clue about what was happening.

The golden girl in the water is more of a fighter. She screams at Sansa in anger about what she had ever done to her to deserve this. 'Nothing,' Sansa screams back at her. 'You did nothing. You just stood there and let it all happen.' The girl opens her mouth but before she's able to say anything she disappears between the waves again and Sansa cuts her off. 'You knew your brother was a monster, you KNEW.' She clenches her hands into fists. The princess was supposed to be her friend; she was only three years younger, and not as stupid as she pretended to be. 'It's not a reason to murder us,' the girl screams, choking on the water slowly filling her lungs. 'I'm not murdering anyone,' she yells back. 'I'm just standing here doing nothing.' The hilarity of the truth of it makes her forget her anger and Sansa's shrill laughter fills the air.

She watches the girl drown. It takes longer than she thought it would, but at last the water is still again. Sansa notices how the color is still blue, how they died golden, not Lannister red.'This one is for my mother,' she mutters to the water, 'For Catelyn, and for all innocent children that have to die while their mothers weep'. Princes and princesses were never supposed to be childish. She knows she did the right thing.

 

 

V

 

Queen Sansa Stark, the first of her name, enters the dungeon beneath King's Landing and looks at the person before her, filthy and in rags. 'Is it true what they say,' the woman asks, shaking her freshly shaved head in disbelief, 'Is it true about Jaime..'

'Yes, they found his body. What was left of it anyway.'  
She takes pleasure to see his twin look up at the ceiling trying to hold back tears in the silence between her words. 'I wish I could tell you more, but I never saw him,' she says concerned. She touches the woman's arm with tears in her eyes. 'It is is not what why I am here though, I have other news.' The look on her face has the effect she counted on and Cersei looks at her in shock. 'Not my little ones,' she mutters, 'Not them, they were so strong, so strong.' A perfectly timed tear rolls down Sansa's cheek. 'I'm so sorry, I saw it happen, i tried to save them, but... it was too late.'

Cersei gasps and clutches her stomach and for a moment Sansa believes she will fall on her knees crying. But that was never Cersei Lannister. She keeps standing, putting every part of willpower in her to keep her body standing on her feet, to hold back her tears, to stop showing how she feels. Sansa looks at her like she would look at a work of art, amazed at how much power she has left. She takes a step closer and she notices how Cersei suppresses the reflex to take a step backwards. Sansa wraps her pale white hand around her throat, simply holding her, and Cersei swallows nervously when her fingers slowly tighten. Still she keeps standing, her chin up and her muscles tense, refusing to die as anything else than the lioness she's still pretending to be.

Sansa looks into her eyes, blue locking on green, and is shocked to see a reflection of herself, a person without hope who lost everything, buried deep inside the walls of steel she build around her, waiting for death from the day her childhood was lost forever. Sansa drops her hand in confusion. 'I'm sorry,' she mutters, her fingertips brushing the skin of her throat once more, almost understanding. Maybe this was what it meant to be a Queen, to have a heart like winter, cold and frozen, not being able to find the sunshine to warm it again and melt the pain. Sansa learned so much from her. All the plots and scheming, there was so much to be thankful for. Another tear rolls down on her cheek and when she looks at Cersei she sees the same tear rolling down her cheek as well. A mirror, she realizes, we look as reflections in a mirror.

'Forgive me, I forgot my courtesies,' she apologizes, 'It's been a rough couple of days.' She looks at her and sees Cersei knows what game is being played. The only game. _The game of thrones_. As she expected Cersei jumps right on it, telling her she can help, that it's not needed to wear the burden of the crown alone. Sansa smiles sadly and refuses politely. 'I'm sure you're a sweet thing now, but who knows what treasons you will do once I set you free?' If Cersei is annoyed she never shows. _You win or you die_. She knows words are wind. So Cersei bends her knee. She swears her oath to only serve Sansa Stark, the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Sansa takes her hand and pulls her up to her feet again and hugs her like a lost sister. 'You won't regret it,' she promises, 'We are women, we need to be strong, help one another. I'm sure you will do your duty.' Sansa smiles and watches the face before her force a smile back at her. A smile so full of pain it reminds her of a dinner once, when she was still betrothed to Joffrey.

'I can't give you back what you lost, but I can give you what you always wanted, ' she exclaims.' I will give you a sword.' It makes her think of her sister. Arya would understand.

 

 

VI

 

Joffrey Baratheon stood on the High Septon’s pulpit outside the doors of the sept, supported between two of the silver cloaks of the Queensguard. He was dressed in crimson, and he was thinner than anyone had ever seen him, his long face drawn with pain. He was not standing so much as being held up; parts of his body grey and rotten. Clustered around the doors of the sept, in front of the raised marble pulpit, were a knot of knights and high lords. Sansa Stark was prominent among them, her raiment all grey, silk and satin patterned with howling wolves, a silver crown on her head.

A few steps away from the Queensguard stood Cersei Lannister. Sansa had ordered to take her tongue out with hot pincers and the sight of it has been hilarious. She was leaning on Oathkeeper, hollow eyes in her pale face. She was holding onto the sword like it was her twin she was holding, instead of the Valyrian steel of her Queen's father. Close to Sansa stood Brienne of Tarth, wearing a silver-spun cloak over her dark grey armor, with four of the Queensguard around her.

The crowd was shouting the name of their true queen and threw her flowers at her feet. The people loved her. Queen Sansa Stark, whose kindness and grace would lead them all through the winter. It was said her smile meant spring and her heart was made of lemoncakes. She was The True Young Wolf, the one that would do justice and was too good to know of any treasons.

When the bell ceased to toll, a quiet slowly settled across the great plaza, and Joffrey lifted his head and began to speak, his voice thin and weak. People in the crowd began to shout out, “What?” and “Louder!” The lady commander of the Queensguard in the dark grey armor stepped up behind him and prodded him sharply. Joffrey raised his voice and began again. “I am Joffrey Baratheon,” he said more loudly, his voice carrying across the plaza, “I am not your rightful king, but a bastard born of incest between Cersei and Jaime Lannister. I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of gods and men.”

The crowd began to scream and shout. Taunts and obscenities filled the air. Cersei closed her eyes. Joffrey raised his voice still higher, straining to be heard. “I betrayed the faith and trust of my family and the realm,” he shouted. “I swore to defend and protect, yet I plotted and betrayed. I confess murder. I killed the King, my own grandfather. I killed the last hand of the King who was my uncle. I plotted with Lord Baelish to murder my own father. I killed my own sister and brother by drowning them in the river. Let the High Septon and Baelor the Beloved, the Seven and the Old Gods bear witness to the truth of what I say: I am a kinslayer and a kingslayer. Sansa Stark is the one true Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and by the grace of all the gods, Protector of the Realm.”

A stone came sailing out of the crowd and hit him in the face. The silver cloaks kept him from falling. Blood ran down his face from a deep gash across his forehead. More stones followed. One hit him in the chest and made him gasp for air. Another hit Cersei Lannister in the face. Two of the Queensguard stepped in front of Sansa Stark, protecting her with their shields. The High Septon knelt before her. “What shall be done with this traitor, Your Grace?”

A thousand voices were screaming as Queen Sansa stepped out from behind the shields of her Queensguard. “My father learned me how to forgive, and Lady Lannister has begged mercy for her son until she could speak no more words.” She looked straight at Cersei then, and smiled. Then Sansa Stark turned back to the crowd and said, “But they believe I have the soft heart of a woman. So long as I am your Queen, treason shall never go unpunished. Cersei Lannister, bring me his head!”


End file.
